


The Maling List

by elwinglyre



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Hobbit Sex, M/M, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 10:30:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8202142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwinglyre/pseuds/elwinglyre
Summary: Frodo shivered, pulling his light woolen coat tight around him. He'd not expected this journey to be so bone cold. The weather was most unusual for late Thrimidge. His frosty breath curved from his chattering teeth as he trudged forward. Frodo lagged behind his cousins, wondering.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the topsy turvy challenge for Waymeet. This is a role reversal fiction. Merry and Pippin also make an appearance along with Sam and Frodo.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr: [**elwinglyre Tumblr**](https://elwinglyre.tumblr.com/)!

Frodo shivered, pulling his light woolen coat tight around him. He'd not expected this journey to be so bone cold. The weather was most unusual for late Thrimidge. His frosty breath curved from his chattering teeth as he trudged forward. Frodo lagged behind his cousins, wondering. That Merry and Pip were up to something, he was certain. He eyed them as they both giggled on the road ahead with heads bent together. What they cackled, he did not know, but there certainly was mischief about. Frodo found his bundle untied and unrolled thrice on their journey to Michel Delving. The last time he caught them rummaging and accused them both of snooping. 

Despite the chill, the frost on the grass reminded Frodo of twinkling gemstones. The chick-a-dees flitted carefree on the glittering branches above. He looked ahead to see his cousins disappear around the bend ahead.

"Wait!" Frodo hollered, grabbing his roll and running. "Wait for me!"

Frodo came up fast behind and stopped dead the moment he saw what Pip waved in his hand above his head.

_My list_ , he thought. Frodo slowed, stepping cautiously behind them.

"What is that?" Frodo asked innocently.

"Ah dear Frodo, you know full well what this is," Merry smiled, licking his lips.

"Where did you get it?" Frodo asked. "Or should I ask how?!"

"Pip and I found it."

"Found it? You mean absconded!"

"We were going to return it," Pip said, "but thought better... you know what they say, finders keepers.... Very curious content. We didn't know what to make it at first..."

Frodo's embarrassment flushed hot in his cheeks. "Give it back," he said, grasping for the note.

"Now why would you ever want it back?" Pip said, whisking the list behind his back. "We've had it for so very long. Merry actually put it in your pack a few times, but I retrieved it. We studied it at length since we found it at Bag End. A most interesting list to be sure."

"It's nothing. Why it's only a list of people I was to gift for Lithe..."

"Frodo planning ahead?! Since when did you turn into Bilbo?" Merry laughed.

"If this were truly a list of Lithe gifts, _my_ name would be on it _and_ at the top," Pip said, waving the list under Frodo's nose like a delicacy. 

"No, we thought on this and wondered and thought again, _then_ we noticed there are only young lads on this list," Merry added.

"Handsome young lads, right Merry? With the exception of me of course. I must say I'm very hurt I didn't make your list Frodo."

"Right you are Pip," Merry said, taking the list from Pippin. "What I'd like to know is why I only made number nine on your lusty list? Look at these lads before me-- I'm far more handsome then ol' Tom Cotton."

Merry waved the list about, and Frodo made another futile grab, ripping off a corner. 

"What are you talking about?" Frodo asked, cheeks hot. He anticipated Merry's next gesture and finally whipped the list from his hand. "That's not what this is,"  he defended, shaking the list in the air. "No, not what this is what so ever..."

"Come now dear cousin, even I have lusted after some of these lads. Tom Cotton _is_ a strapping lad. Folco Bolfin is a little too meaty for my taste but pleasant eyes-- I admit I've had a thought or two about him. The real surprise was number one. Ah, and that is _how_ we deciphered your list dear Frodo. We watched and sure as you please, _you_ gave it away. The way you look at him when you think no one's looking is most lascivious. What do you think Samwise would do if he knew?" Merry turned to Pip, eyebrows arched. "What do _you_ think Pippin?"

"Why Merry," Pip spouted. "I think Samwise would be horrified!"

"Now we've a solution for you," Pip smirked. "Seems to us most of your problem is that you're frustrated. I have had more lads and lasses than you. I even wonder if you've ever..."

"I have!"

"How long has it been?" Merry asked. "I wager you can't remember."

"It's not as if I can just go out and..."

"That's is where you are wrong," Pippin said. "You can. And thank us now Frodo, because we've arranged it. A nice handsome lad, no questions, enticing room, and all evening to enjoy him as soon as we get to Michel Delving."

"We've planned every detail," Merry added. "We picked the lad-- handsome, capable, and oh so willing. You'll be pleased. Stop shaking your head at me! I will take you kicking and screaming if I must, but you _are_ going."

Frodo spent the remainder of the walk devising ways to escape his cousins' plan. He rolled the ideas in his head like berries. He _could_ say he had open, festering sores. Or he _could_ stick his finger down his throat, vomiting down the front of Pip. The more outrageous his plans, the more he dwelled on just how long it _had_ been since last he had a good tumble. The idea became an itch. 

It was dusk when they made Michel Delving. By then Frodo was a twitching, inching bundle. As the three stood in on the cold slab steps of the _Yore Leisure Inn_ , Frodo sighed in resignation. 

"Come on," Pip said, grabbing the front of Frodo's coat. 

Frodo stumbled up behind, muttering under his breath, "What desperation. _I'm_ following _them_..." 

*******************

Frodo had to admit, the inside of the _Yore Leisure Inn_ was as seedy as the out. The drapes were of rich burgundy velvet with large, plush pillows strewn near and far. Obscene tapestries in various pictorial "acts" lined the walls. Fine silver and gold threads intricately woven within the tapestries glittered in the bright light of the scones. All a hobbit need do was to point to a scene, indicating which "service" he preferred. Frodo's cheeks burned despite the cold.

He reluctantly stood, trying not to leer at the walls, Pip on one side, Merry on the other. The two held Frodo close. No doubt to keep him from bolting when Madame Netherside greeted them. Frodo swayed as she approached. 

Her chin was dipped, watching them under dusky lashes. Her robust hips swayed as her hands pressed to her tightly cinched waist, while her breasts spilled over, bouncing in perfect time with the sway of her hips. 

As the Madame waltzed up, she smiled. Frodo was taken aback. There was a beauty to her which could not be denied. Time and worry fell on her brow, yet it gave her a vulnerability that made Frodo's heart ache and wonder what kind of life she'd had. Her attire was secondary, augmenting her curves, the simple mauve bodice complementing her soft creamy skin.  Much more distracting than either the Madame or the tapestries was the lad next to her. Beautiful wide dark eyes, fine features and a wicked smile.

"I insist we leave," Frodo stuttered.

"No you don't," Merry whispered in Frodo's ear. "You want this. I can see it in your eyes..."

"...and else where," Pippin noted, stifling a laugh.

"Welcome, young lads! And _hello_ Master Merry," Madame Netherside winked. "And this must be the lad you told me about... Master Frodo Baggins of Bag End is it?"

"Why yes," Frodo said, taking her hand and kissing it softly. 

"He doesn't seem to need any help with the lasses. Ah, but _it's a lad_ you're interested in. Randolph? Show Master Baggins to the room..."

Merry nudged Frodo forward.

"I'm sure you'll be pleased. We guarantee satisfaction," she laughed, then turned. "Now Master Merry, what can I do for you?"

Randolph lead a step ahead of Frodo. As they climbed the wide staircase, Frodo felt an ache in his heart. He would much rather be with someone else. Somewhere else. At the top, the hallway was dimly lit by sconces on the walls. There was little to see, just doors and more doors. Until at last they stopped in front of one. Randolph slowly opened it. Frodo swallowed hard.

Randolph stepped aside. "Go in," he said. Frodo crept through, but Randolph didn't follow. 

"Aren't you coming in?" Frodo asked quietly. He gave Frodo that same sly smile.

"No," he answered, shutting the door softly behind.

All that was left to illuminate the room was frail light from the small fireplace on the far north wall. Frodo rested his hand on the headboard beside him, running his finger through the ornate carving in the wood. Frodo heard movement on the bed. 

"Come," a voice whispered to Frodo. 

The room was a dizzy fog. Frodo jumped as a hand brushed his arm in the dark. His skin prickled as the lad's hand traced a line up Frodo's arm ending at his neck, pulling Frodo onto the bed. Frodo strained to see his face, the fire casting pitiful light. He didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed he could not see the his face. 

"Would you like to touch me?" the lad asked, the voice oddly familiar. 

Frodo hesitated then said, "yes" as the lad guided Frodo's hand across his chest. The lad's fingers were rough yet inviting.  His chest, strong and firm. He moved Frodo's hand lower. He was naked beneath the sheet. The light from the fire flickered, and his head cleared. The room crackled. Frodo's breath hitched. He knew that voice and that hair, the color of clean straw. The light from the fire dimmed yet again.

"Sam... is that you?" he whispered in the dark.

The lad was silent for a moment then spoke.

"I am not Sam, but I can be whoever you want. Do you wish me to be this Sam?"

The lad removed Frodo's weskit and deftly began to unbutton Frodo's shirt. The fingers were skilled and far too clever to be the gardener's. No, he'd been mistaken. No doubt Pippin and Merry had chosen the lad because he'd resembled Samwise so. No harm pretending he was Sam. He was sure the lad had played many a role.

Frodo bit his cheek. It would be _so_ easy...

"Yes..." 

"Then please, call me Sam."

It was easy to believe, to pretend for Frodo. He'd done it so long himself-- thinking of what Samwise would do as Frodo held him, what Sam's mouth would taste like, how his hands would feel, how he would cry out his name in gasps late at night in bed. Yes, it would be so easy to pretend.

The lad deftly pulled the laces on his breeches open and Frodo helped him slip them off. The lad was on his side curled next to Frodo, and he slithered his hand up the inside of Frodo's thigh, then cupped his balls, rolling them gently in his hand. Frodo moaned.

The lad bowed his head into Frodo's soft hair and pressed his body tight against him. He could the feel the lad's cock, hard and needy pushing into his thigh. His tongue flicked wickedly at the tips of Frodo's ear, and Frodo moaned all the louder. 

"Oh Sam," he begged. "Kiss me."

His lips met his, and the kiss was rough like he imaged Sam would give. His mouth devouring Frodo's with smashing lips and lashing tongue. Frodo felt the heat swelling inside him, more than a rigid cock, he felt his insides turn and crash as he imagined the sea would against the rocks, as he imagined his Samwise would make him feel.

Contradictions beat against Frodo's chest as this Sam rolled on top and trapped him in the soft, deep mattress.

"What would you like?" he whispered. The lad found Frodo's hand again. In the lad's palm was a thick silken cord. 

Frodo didn't answer. Their cocks bumped together, and the lad repressed a moan. Frodo knew not what to say as the cord caressed his own finger tips. 

"Would you like to know what I can do with this?"  this Sam asked.

"Yes," Frodo moaned, mind tumbling. What oh, what was he doing here? Frodo shivered as the lad slithered the end of the cord down his chest to his groin.

"Frodo... Frodo..." he murmured softy as he tormented him with nips to his neck. 

This Sam teased his cock, winding the cord around and gently rolling it up and down his length, each time a bit faster then the next.

"Do you like what Sam is doing for you?" the lad asked. 

"Yes, oh yes," Frodo whimpered, as the cord rolled down to the base of his cock and then tight under his balls. The cord pulled tauter. 

"You are so hard," his Sam said just before lips suppressed another moan from Frodo's mouth. He _was_ hard. Then the lad raised up, moving downward, nibbling Frodo's chest and belly as he went. Frodo gasped as teeth scraped the underside of his cock, the cord clutching him tight. The talented mouth brought him fast to the edge, and Frodo's own mouth became dry as he panted. 

"Sam, Sam, my Sam," he croaked. Frodo, expecting to spill his seed into his hot mouth, found nothing came but empty spasms--the cord staving his blessed release. Frodo gave a strangled cry. The mouth mercilessly continued, bringing him over the cliff and falling into an abyss.

The spasms shook him again. Then again. Frodo whimpered, "Samwise, my Samwise, I love you," willing this lad to be the one he so wanted. At last he felt the sweet release of the cord. He shouted Sam's name one last time as he filled the willing throat.

The lad kissed his lips, the salty taste on his tongue a reminder. Then the lad got up from the bed.  Slipping on a robe, he softly left. 

He closed his eyes. The lad was good, but the pretense left him empty. Frodo was alone.

\-------------------------

Frodo did his business in Michel Delving over the next days with nary a word to his cousins. They begged for details and got none. No longer tense, in its stead a shadow cast over him. No nails did  he bite, instead he worried his lower lip betwixt his teeth and creased his brow deep in thought. Not wanting the long walk with chiding from Merry and Pip all the way, Frodo hired a carriage for them to travel home to Bag End. Still, he didn't look forward to close quarters in the carriage, but as they rode, he had naught to worry for he found an uncharacteristic silence fell over his cousins. 

As they bumped along, Merry and Pippin studied him almost a much as he studied himself. That evening at the brothel was a revelation to Frodo; the night haunted him. It seemed his brain was just as unforgiving as that taut silken cord.

That he'd leered and lusted after Samwise, he'd acknowledged haltingly to himself for years. That he loved him as a friend, he'd acknowledged to Samwise as well. What he'd never acknowledged to himself or Sam was his heart. He loved Sam. He'd said it aloud and it frightened him. The other night taught him what love was and what love was not. 

The road home was too short. He feared what he would say to Samwise on his return. Watching his cousins watch him, he feared more what his cousins might say. Nights at inns, silent meals under Merry's curious eyes. He wished and dreaded to be home. Pippin looked upon him now under his lashes. As they neared Bag End, the familiar sights of the Shire worried Frodo more. Then at last the hills of home, and there in the north field was Samwise, tilling the soil.

Frodo turned his eyes from out the carriage window to his two cousins seated across from him. "Never speak a word to Sam," he demanded, voice shaking. "Not one word from your lips. No actions will you make. Ever. No jests, no jokes, no pranks." 

They both nodded solemnly. 

He closed his eyes. Sam would never know.

The carriage halted. Frodo took his pack inside with Merry and Pip behind him. Samwise, noting his master's return came in from the field, making quick work in the kitchen preparing a hearty meal. Soon baking biscuits and roast wafted through Bag End along with Sam's merry singing. 

Frodo went to the study and sat beside the fire, watching the wood snap and sputter. Merry and Pippin spoke in hushed voices in the next room while Sam still sang "Hi, Dee, Ho" in the kitchen. Frodo sighed at Sam's rendition of the old dwarf verse. Samwise had no reason to suspect. What more could Frodo do than suffer in silence? Sam's resounding voice stopped and Merry and Pip's voices raised. 

Frodo stood up and followed the uproar. Both their faces shot hot, guilty looks in Frodo's direction. In back of them stood Sam, puzzled.

"Time to stop this caterwauling and come to the table," Samwise said, frowning and wiping his hands on his apron. 

"I'm starved," Pip said, pushing past Samwise.

Samwise followed them all into the kitchen, and he watched with folded arms as they each took hearty portions. 

"Sit down Sam. You made enough," Merry suggested, then turned to Pip. "That is if Pip doesn't take all the potatoes."

"Yes, Sam," Frodo said. "Please sit and join us."

"If you don't mind Mr. Frodo, I should clean up. I expect there will be enough left after." 

Frodo felt a bit relieved. He stared at his plate and picked at his food. His cousins gobbled theirs down with second and third helpings. Whilst they ate, the cousins argued who should keep the rose brocade velvet they bought in Michel Delving and whose skin it would most flatter. Samwise busied himself  washing the counters and banging around in the cupboards, shaking his head at Merry and Pip. At last Pip, pierced the last slice of roast from the serving tray and Merry hollered.

"You _could_ ask if I wanted more," Merry snapped. 

"Finders keepers," Pip returned. 

Frodo's fork clattered to his plate then he pushed back from the table.

"I'm sorry Sam," Frodo said. "What you've prepared is wonderful, but I fear the carriage ride home wore me thin." 

"If you don't mind me saying sir, I'd think it was the company," Sam said.

"Frodo! Do you always abide this insolence from your help?" Pippin squeaked. "Are you going to allow this?"

"Yes, I am."

"This would _never_ happened if you'd stayed in Buckland..."

Frodo ignored Pippin and turned to Merry. "I think you two should retire early. Samwise has spent a long day in the fields and need not have to see to either of you."

With that Frodo went off to bed. The night became unforgiving. Memories of what was and wasn't crept through his body; sleep did not find him until early morning.

When Frodo woke, his cousins had gone--a note left, thanking him. 

It was then that Frodo perceived a change in Sam. During the first two days after Frodo's return, Sam skittered from his master's sight, eyes cast downward, avoiding Frodo's. Then days later, he took to glaring at his master, jaw clenching. Over the last three days, he'd gone all snappish. Frodo did not a thing correct. Not clearing off the table, not picking up his bed clothes, not starting a fire. _Why ever was Sam so foul_? Frodo worried... He continued to worry and wonder over what Sam might have overheard as Merry and Pippin bickered in the hallway. Frodo tried pushing the possibilities from out his mind--that Sam knew what his Master did in Michel Delving and worse yet, why. Then again, Sam was keen at sensing his master's mood. Maybe he somehow sensed what Frodo had done. 

Frodo heard a loud bang, then Sam grumbling in the study. No doubt the books Frodo left strewn about were grating at his gardener's sense of order. Another bang. A curse. Frodo flinched, leaving books about was Frodo's habit, yet this was one more habit of late that pressed Samwise. 

The racket increased, and Frodo became alarmed--was that _his_ books he heard Samwise mashing into the shelves?! This was not his Samwise to treat books so. No longer able to wait and wonder at what his friend might know, Frodo mustered courage and made his way toward Samwise's rumbles and bangs. Standing in the doorway Frodo watched Sam. His brow was creased, and he stood legs planted apart-- his left arm loaded with books and _The Fall of Noldor_ grasped tight in his right fist, ready to shove it into place in the case.

"Samwise!" Frodo said, taking the beloved book from his gardener's grasp. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? Putting away books." 

"You should treat them with more care."

"I'm treating them with as much care as you do, leaving them strewn about like so many acorns under a tree. You should take better care of those things you cherish, not leave them aside."

Frodo held his breath. Samwise's jaw clenched.

"What else to you think I'm leaving aside?" Frodo whispered.

Sam sighed and shook his head. "It's not my place to say, sir." He turned and went back to placing the books on the shelves.

"Sam. What is it? You've not been yourself." Frodo set his book down in his favorite overstuffed chair.

"Begging your pardon sir, but you've not been yourself... not since you went off with those two cousins of yours. Not since..." Sam's eyes fell to the floor.

"Not since what Sam?"

"I didn't believe what I heard at first, being that it was from them two rapscallions, but the way they were speaking I know'd it was all the truth." Sam lifted his head from watching the floor and stared in his master's eyes. "Why Mr. Frodo? Why?" 

Frodo couldn't speak.

"Not that it's for me to judge, Mr. Frodo, but it's just not right. No, not right at all, paying some... some..."

Frodo flinched again-- _Sam knew-- he'd heard_.

"Whore?" Frodo finished. 

"Not right, no not right at all," Sam repeated. "And in Michel Delving? Seems you could have found a body closer. Not that I'm judging you, but seems to me that sort of thing should be done with one you care about, not some... some stranger..."

"I'm sorry, Sam." 

"Sorry you done it or sorry I found out?"

"Sorry for both."

Sam stood silent, watching his master worry his lower lip. 

"If you want, all you need do is ask."

Frodo froze. His face burned. Sam knew it all--every last dirty bit. Frodo stammered, "I... I could never ask that of you."

"Never?" Sam's face turned dark. "Oh, you can't ask your Samwise, but you can go traipsing' to some house of pleasure and get some lad who looks like your Sam. Why Mr. Frodo?" 

"It was Pippin and Merry's idea..." he covered.

Then Samwise reached into his pocket and pulled it out, all crumpled and torn, but there was no mistaking-- it was the list.

"And was this their idea too Mr. Frodo?"

Frodo lost all speech, and Sam didn't give Frodo another moment to look. He stepped up to Frodo, grabbed him, holding him tight to his chest. Frodo struggled a bit, but the more he resisted, the tighter Sam held him. At last Frodo stilled, head resting softly on Sam's shoulder. Sam loosened his grip, hands gently moving up his back. Sam caressed his hair, then cheek. 

"Now that you've quieted, you can tell your Sam what you'd like him to do for you-- 'course this would be a mite comfier in that soft bed of yours, but your chair would do if you're so inclined. And don't you worry that your Sam doesn't want you. I think you should have noticed otherwise from the pressing need in my breeches, but if that is not enough for ye, maybe this will convince..." 

Sam's hands melted around Frodo's face, his eyes never leaving the blue depths of his master's. As their lips met, Frodo's mouth opened in surprise. Sam ran his tongue along Frodo's lower lip then pushed through. Sam smiled as Frodo moaned and went limp against his chest.

"What shall it be? Bed or Chair?" 

"Bed," Frodo squeaked.

Sam swept Frodo up not giving him time to change his mind. 

"You're a bit heavier than you appear Mr. Frodo," Sam said as he carried him through the halls. Sam kicked open the door to Frodo's room. "Watch your head."

Sam dropped Frodo unceremoniously on the bed. Frodo blinked up at Sam then at his own breeches. Sam smirked.

"Need those off, I suppose. Let your Samwise help you with them." Sam's hand lingered a bit longer than necessary, pressing hard against his master's heat beneath. Sam's grin widened. Seeing the confusion on his master's face was delicious. Sam tugged down Frodo's breeches and underclothes, humming to himself. "Aren't you a handsome sight? Seems you have quiet the handful. I'll help you with it whilst you take off the rest." 

Frodo found Sam's attentions a distraction. Fingers... hands... Eru, was that his tongue?! Frodo own fingers refused to made fast work of the buttons on his weskit and blouse. He fumbled and moaned as Sam squeezed his cock then licked the tip again. He almost cried for help, but decided he wanted none. Doubt and resistance left him. Falling, that's what he was. No cry of help for him. Instead he said, "more."

Sam obliged.

Sam's mouth took him whole. Cheeks hollowed, gulping him down. Frodo gasped, watching him. There was Samwise, straddling him, fully clothed on his bed. How many times had he dreamed this? All but one part. That wouldn't do, that wouldn't do at all.

"Off," Frodo gasped.

"You... you want me to stop?" Sam gasped.

"No, your clothes... off."

Samwise did not have the same difficulty as his master removing his own clothing. He sat back on Frodo's legs and stripped himself down with wicked speed.

Frodo no longer doubted Sam's desire, Sam's interest jutted out, plump and willing. 

"I have a secret to tell you Mr. Frodo. I made a list like yours once..." Sam confessed, moving his hands up Frodo's thighs.

"You did?" Frodo hiccupped as a hand brushed the underside of his cock. "I hope that I was somewhere on that list."

"Ah, you were indeed, you were indeed." Sam's hands began to fondle Frodo's balls as he looked deep into Frodo's eyes. Sam slipped his knee between his master's legs, Frodo spread them apart wider.

"This is hardly fair Sam." 

"Mmm, that seems an invitation by my reckoning..." Sam said, slipping his hand down and testing his resistance. Frodo hissed. "If you would be so kind as to pass me that oil on your night stand."

"What oil?" 

Frodo looked by his head and there it was. His bath oil. How did it get there? He struggled with his arm to reach, frowning at Sam. My, my how he had underestimated his gardener.

He took the oil and passed it to Sam. Just thinking of what Samwise was going to do with it made his whole body flush and fidget with want. 

Sam uncorked it and measured the drops in the palm of his hand. "Did the harlot do this for you?" he asked. Samwise licked his lips as he pushed Frodo's legs farther apart. 

"No," Frodo answered.

Sam pressed his finger inside. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No, please, no."

The sweat beaded on Frodo's brow as the ache deepened inside him. Sam pushed in, finding parts of Frodo he never dreamed he could feel with such intensity. Every point of his consciousness became tuned to that point inside him. The rest of his body followed his desire, moaning and quivering. That Samwise was enjoying his fits of ecstasy was apparent--he had a glow about him Frodo had never observed.

Then his gardener grasped his own cock with his oil slicked hand and Frodo became undone. 

"Would you like your Sam inside you?"

"Yes, please, yes."

Sam pushed Frodo's legs up into his chest, rocking Frodo's hips up, then snuggled one downy pillow under his backside, lining him up prefect with Sam's cock. Their eyes met as Sam's finger tested the opening one last time then pushed the tip of his cock inside. 

Frodo winced, distracting himself by admiring the sweat on Sam's brow and the perfect beads on his hard chest. He gripped the sheets as Sam pushed deeper. 

"Sam, there." 

Then Frodo shivered...

"How beautiful you are all bent and willowy beneath me and your eyes like white hot fire. Move your hips into your Sam and make me feel how tight and perfect it is to be surrounded by you." 

Sam stared at Frodo with such heat that Frodo was afraid he be devoured like tinder. Frodo pushed harder into Sam. With each movement, Sam met his, raging a fire inside his chest the likes Frodo had never known. 

Frodo's body buckled under Sam's, his thighs muscles tightened with need. He was coming, calling Sam's name. Telling Sam how he never wanted him to stop, never wanted this to end. 

Hearing Frodo's words, Sam came not a moment behind. 

Sam collapsed, spent. At last, he moved to get up.

"Please," Frodo asked, "please stay." Sam kissed his ear and snuggled in close. Frodo hugged him, moving his hands to touch his back, his hair, and all that was forbidden to him until now. Those words Frodo had told that other Sam were on his lips but were afraid to come out, so afraid that they would not be returned. Sam's breathing steadied next to him, his eyes open, green-gold flecks of wonder staring into his own. He was waiting. Sam was waiting.

"Sir?"

Frodo blinked. "I..."

"Mr. Frodo?"

"I... love you Sam."

"I love you too Mr. Frodo."

"That's not what I meant... I mean I _love_ you."

"Sam knows what your meanin'. I do think you are daft if you ever thought I felt otherwise. Hush now and go to sleep. I'll keep you in my arms so I can watch that light in you all night. I reckon the Gaffer will be wonderin' what kept me, but I expect he'll know the moment he sees me."

"I expect I'll have to talk to him."

"I expect."

Frodo shut his eyes and nodded off.

The next morning, he woke to Sam's smile. He pulled Sam to him. 

"I better be getting home," Sam yawned. "I've chores to mind there. Daisy will skin me."

"I rather like your skin. You better go then."  Frodo watched his new lover get out of his bed. He felt guilty for wanting to keep him to himself. Still... "Do you think I could convince your Gaffer that  I need you here? To stay."

Sam pulled up his breeches then walked up and stoked the fire, adding a couple of logs. Frodo watched the muscles in his back work and felt himself get hard again. 

"The Gaffer has been expecting you to ask him that since Bilbo left," he said, buttoning his shirt. "I'll tend to the kitchen fire before I go."

"Thank you Samwise..." Frodo said, sitting up in bed.

Samwise was almost out the door.

"Sam?"

The gardener stopped, his back to Frodo.

"Yes Mr. Frodo?"

"Where was I on your list?"

Sam turned his head to Frodo and smiled. "Why the same place I was on yours."

"I was hoping..." He put his arms behind his head and started to lie back down, then stopped arm bent and propping him up on the pillow. "Sam?"

"Yes Mr. Frodo?"

"It was _always_ you."

"I know Mr. Frodo, I know. It were the same for me. Now after your Samwise leaves look under your bed, I've a present for you there, but no peeking until I've left."

"Sam?! A gift?"

He turned to wink at Frodo then left. Frodo tossed and turned in bed, waiting for Samwise to leave for Number Three. At last he hear the door shut to Bag End. 

He leaned over the side, upside down, dark curls dancing on the floor. He lifted the quilts and sheets up to spy under the bed. At first his eyes saw nothing, then the fire sparked and he saw it. He reached and pulled out from under the bed the thick silken cord.


End file.
